


In The End

by Dr_Megamind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Visenya are terrible to each other, Everything Sucks Forever, Family Drama, Gen, House Targaryen, Post conquest, Post-Death in the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 12:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12794817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Megamind/pseuds/Dr_Megamind
Summary: Queen Visenya Targaryen will not allow anyone to see her break.





	In The End

She wants to scream, but she won't.

She is the last Queen left standing, the sole Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and by the gods there is no man or woman alive _that will see Visenya Targaryen cry._

Not even for her sister.

She hasn't slept properly for the last three days, not since the raven with the news arrived. She waited for more messages, she had Gawen practically moved in the rookery to await for more news, but deep in her heart she knows nothing more, at least nothing good, will come from the blasted ravens. _Dark wings, dark words._

She hears the whispers behind her back, the stone Queen, the unfeeling Queen, the witch Queen. She ignores them as pointedly as she can and goes on with her duties, she keeps the realm from falling into chaos and makes sure to be seen flying with Vhagar over the city often. Dragons can now be killed, the people know that and, despite the fact that she would really, _really_ enjoy for someone to just fucking _try,_ it is too soon, their conquest too fresh in the minds of the high lords that used to be kings for any further weakness to be shown. One dragon down, two more to go. How long would it take for them to think that? After all, if the Dornish snakes could do it…

"Tsk."

The thought makes her clench her fists and she abandons it before it ruins her day even further. There is a lot to be done, there is a lot to think about and she cannot have this on her head as well. Watching the first rays of the sun rising from her window, Queen Visenya turns her back and quickly moves towards her boudoir, where there is a basin with water waiting for her, as well as a goblet of lemon water to freshen her breath. She finishes just as her handmaiden knocks on her door.

"Enter."

Alynna does so gracefully, her expression carefully neutral as she bows before her. Visenya likes the girl. She is young, but swift of movement and her mind is sharp but, above all, the girl had proven herself loyal to a fault. Nothing that she ever sees while in the Queen's chambers makes it out. As the servant presents her with choices of wear for the day, a crimson velvet dress that looks suitable to the weather, trimmed with Myrish lace and embroidered at the bodice with golden vines and a black-and-red silk that she favours, due to the simplicity of the design and, more importantly, the freedom of movement it provides, Visenya thinks back on two nights before.

When the Grand Maester brought her the news and left her with his suitably grievous expression, Alynna had found her sitting frozen in her chair, still reading the letter over and over, her hands bleeding a little from how tightly she had been gripping it. She wasn't crying though and she felt proud of that at least, because in her head, Visenya had been screaming her grief at the skies. The girl had looked at her, hesitated for a mere moment and then poured a goblet of warm spiced wine and, gently but firmly, she tagged at the bloodstained parchment. Visenya had sent her an outraged glare that would have any other servant trembling and, although she hesitated once more, she spoke in a soft voice.

"Your Grace. Your hands."

Finally looking down, she forced herself to regain her composure and put the message in the hands of the girl, taking the goblet and downing half its contents immediately, staining the glass red in the process. She stared outside the window as her hands were carefully cleaned of the blood, but stopped her from bandaging them and dismissed her. She was the last Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and she would not be seen wounded after Rhaenys had fallen, not for such minor scratches at the very least. The next day she had announced the unfortunate death of her sister to an expectant court of sycophants and scheming courtiers, leaving them with the confirmation they desired and bearing with their endless condolences and shows of sadness.

She didn't care if it was genuine or not.

She wanted to fly over Dorne, to reduce it to a pile of ashes and burned land, to bring about the second Doom on them for what they had dared. She wanted to be with Aegon, armoured and mounted on her dragon, to bring fire and blood to her sister's killers.

Instead she was stuck in the Aegonfort, trying to ensure that everything they had worked so hard for remained as tightly woven as it was supposed to.

Shaking her head to clear it of the memories, she rose from her seat and relieved herself of her nightgown, letting it fall to the floor. Without a word to the perplexed servant, she moved towards her closet and pulled out a pair of cotton black breeches and a black doublet embroidered with red dragons on the sleeves.

She was Queen Visenya Targaryen, the sister-wife of Aegon I and his co-conqueror and on the day of his return to announce his failure to her face, she would make damn sure to remind him of that. Pulling on a pair of black boots, she beckoned Alynna to her and ordered her to do her hair in a simple braid. And after that was done, she strapped Dark Sister to her leather belt and left her chambers, guards in tow.

Vhagar, as if she had sensed her inner turmoil, was already sunbathing in the courtyard, opening one lazy eye to stare at her. The dragon Queen saddled her beast herself, with practiced efficiency and flew towards the port where Aegon was supposed to dock, although she had a suspicion he would not be landing by ship.

An hour later, she was proven right.

Balerion was hard to miss, even from a distance. His great wings sounded like a hundred drums as he flew closer and Visenya looked to the skies. She knew he would see her there, Vhagar wasn't exactly hard to miss either. _Let him come to me, humbled. Let him come and tell me himself._

And he does.

He hops off the wing of the Black Dread, who sits as still and docile as a puppy until his rider is safely on the ground. Vhagar raises her head from where it had been resting on her wings before growling softly at the other dragon. Balerion responds and, in the cacophony of their growling, Aegon comes to stand before her as she looks at him cooly.

Somehow, the sight of him, alone, is enough to drive her to a rage, however her face remains unchanged.

He stares back, taking her in and she can see that the last three days have not been kind to him either, he is unshaven and stinks of wine, not that she cares. Oh, she knows he is hurting, it is written everywhere on his face. But she isn't in a forgiving mood, she rarely is and he will find the courage to look her in the eye or she may very well strike him down, gods help her.

"Sister." he finally says and looks at her expectantly, begging her to speak, to say anything, but she will not make this easy for him. "I… should think that you know. Why I am back."

Her hand twitches at her side, but she won't speak. Aegon is now fidgeting, _fidgeting_ with the hem of his doublet, like some callow little boy caught stealing from the kitchens. _Behold the King of Westeros,_ she thinks to herself in sorrow and feels laughter babbling in her throat. He averts his gaze and looks down.

"What is so interesting about your boots, my lord husband?"

She knows she is wounding him. Not only by the mocking tone, but reminding him that she, the cold sister, the barren Queen, the wife that he only wed out of duty, _she_ is the only one that is left to him. She wants to wound him though, so it is fine with her.

He looks up at her, his sunken eyes angry. "What do you want, Visenya?"

She cocks her head slightly but remains silent. He knows her well enough to understand what she wants. Here, the two of them alone, she is not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she is Visenya Targaryen, the elder sister of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, the responsible one, the strict one, the one who would scold them for the mischief that they caused but always help them out in a pinch, the one who shouldered the responsibilities but not always the rewards.

There is no reward this time either and she is left to clean up after a disaster once more, so the least he owes her is to do right by her. Tell her in her face why she is suddenly left with only him, the husband she never wanted but wed anyway, the husband that had shamed her on her wedding day but to whom she had remained dutiful, the brother that had never truly bothered all _that_ much.

He caves under her stare once again and opens his mouth.

"You will look me in the eye, brother."

She hears the sharp intake of air- it has been so long since she, since anyone really, has dared to talk to him in such a manner. But he obliges anyway.

"Rhaenys… she..." his voice breaks as he tries to say it, "Rhaenys is dead."

She can feel her stomach tie itself into a knot as she hears him say it, as if it has suddenly become more real than before. "How?"

"A scorpion. They took down Meraxes and she- she was-"

She can barely stand his whining. "She was _what?"_

" _They shot her down from the sky!"_ he finally screams at her before his knees give up on him and the Lord of Westeros sinks on the ground and sobs into his hands. "Are you happy now? Hear me say it for you sister! They shot her down, they killed her, she must have been crushed…" he mumbles amidst his crying at her feet and she feels nauseated at how pathetic he looks.

But one detail sticks out. "She _must_ have been?" she is colder than winter itself. "Aegon. _Where is she?"_

She had assumed that there had been a funeral in Dorne, or, failing that, that she was being brought back for one. Not in her wildest dreams had she imagined _this._

"I don't know." he spat, regaining some semblance of composure. "Meraxes destroyed half the castle, but we couldn't find her." The glimmer of hope that threatens to rear its head in her chest is quickly crushed. "She didn't make it. She couldn't have. We searched everywhere. She is gone."

"You lost her." she whispers, unable to believe what she hears. "How dare you show your face! How dare you come back without her! She is your beloved queen, is she not?" she screams at him, unable to control herself at the sheer _audacity_.

She doesn't expect his response however, nor the venom that laces his voice. "Yes, my beloved." he spits. "You must be glad, are you not, Visenya? All hail the one and only Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the sole wife of King Aegon, the First of his Name!" he yells, almost hysterically, as he mockingly bows before her. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? No need for your glaring, from now on you shall be the only one that has the privilege of riding the king's cock, no need to worry about _that_ anymore and you can finally have all the power that comes with it for yourself as well, so there is no reason for your outrage, o Queen!" He is in her face, his breath carrying the stench of wine and for the first time in quite a while, she is at a loss. "Don't think for a second that I don't know where all that bile about my son is coming from. Don't pretend to care for her you hateful bitch, I will not have it! The only thing you ever wanted from me is power and she was in the way, wasn't she, so don't come lecture _me_ when you never cared in the first pl _-_ "

He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because she punches him on his mouth so hard that his lip splits and he is forced to take a few steps back, holding his jaw. When he looks at her, his eyes are ablaze with rage and he makes to retaliate, but he is still not entirely sober so his movements are slower than usual, and she had always been swifter. She avoids some of his hits and retaliates, the sheer anger blazing in her chest helping her to ignore the few that land and eventualy manages to land a kick to his right knee that makes him fall hard on the ground. Before he has time to recover, she straddles him and locks him down with her weight, then pulls him up by his neckline and punches him until she can feel his body relax beneath hers.

She is blind with all the pent up rage and sorrow of the last few days exploding and she doesn't give a damn fuck that he is half-drunk as he says all these things. A small, somehow still rational part of her brain acknowledges there is some truth to some of his words and it stings, but she doesn't want to be rational. She wants to pummel him until he can't move, she wants to slit his throat for the vile words that left his mouth, for the fact that Rhaenys, annoying, arrogant, playful, sweet Rhaenys was gone forever and she would never see her again…

"She is mine too!" she screams and it feels _good_ to let it all out. " _She is mine too you son of a bitch!_ It was I, not you, who held her first and it was to me that she would come to when she was too scared to sleep! It was I whose hand she held in the birthing chamber, my arms that she cried into when her sickly babe took too long to breathe!" She punches him again, unable to contain herself any longer. " _SHE WAS MINE TOO AND YOU LEFT HER THERE TO ROT! BY WHAT RIGHT! HOW DARE YOU! HOW_ DARE _YOU!"_

She is out of control, her cheeks stricken with tears and she barely notices when her barrage of hits has stopped, because she is hugging herself to prevent falling apart, because Rhaenys is gone and she is never going to see her again and it hurts more than she ever thought it would. As awkward hands hesitantly wrap as best as they can around her, she realizes her head is laying on Aegon's chest and she jolts away as if she's seen a snake.

"Don't touch me." she says, but the tension seems to be leaving her already and she can barely manage to choke the words out. He stands up as best as he can, a difficult task and she at least can take pride in the condition she has left his face into. His Grace will be feeling _that_ for some time.

"We will burn them all down." he promises after a few moments of silence. "Every castle, every hold, every house. We will burn them all and parade their lords and princes through our streets, to show to everyone what happens when they dare make dragons bleed."

"You say that as if it is some grand step, brother." she responds tiredly. "It's been the only way, from the moment they shot her down."

And it is true- not only for them personally, because she knows that neither of them would ever rest until Rhaenys's spirit had been laid to rest, but also because this is a fledgling monarchy despite its progress and to show weakness was an open invitation to rebellion. Unless the death of one of its Queens was avenged with the words of their House, they were running the risk of some lord or another deciding they had liked the feel of a crown on their heads better. Dorne would have to bend. _And the longer they take the better._

She turned her back on Aegon and walked towards Vhagar, who laid her wing down for her to climb. Securing herself to the saddle, she saw her brother standing there, looking entirely too lost and silly, with his face swollen and bloody, his clothes covered in stains hers did a better job of hiding.

"Pull yourself together." she yelled down at him. "You cannot let the court see you in such a state."

He ignores her, or doesn't hear her, but she trusts that by the time he returns officially he will once more be Aegon the Conqueror, the powerful dragon king seeking just retribution for gentle queen Rhaenys and she, Visenya, would be left to handle whatever it was that needed to be handled before their departure.

She was going with him, no matter what. She would fly by his side as they burned Rhaenys's murderers, one by one and woe be to anyone who would try to bring her Vhagar down. She let the air hitting her face calm her and by the time she landed in front of the Aegonfort and went to her chambers to change into suitable attire to attend court, she was once more Queen Visenya Targaryen, the sole Lady Consort of the Seven Kingdoms remaining, not a single hole in her armour of cold courtesy.

But in her heart of hearts, she felt like crying and laughing and screaming. _Fire and blood. We are going to burn them all down Rhaenys, just you wait and see._

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I had always been curious about the relationship between Visenya and Rhaenys. From all the accounts it seemed to have been a fairly antagonistic one, at least in regards to the heir to the throne. All the same, I have a weird thing about the dynamic of the Conquest siblings (incest not withstanding) and I tend to headcanon Visenya as the person that, when it came to Rhaenys, she had her moments of digging graves to help her baby sister hide the bodies while others they could barely be in the same room. In a way, typical sisters. So this is my take on how she took the news of her death and there is no person alive that can convince me that Visenya didn't care deeply about Rhaenys, or that her death isn't the primary reason why she and Aegon could barely stand each other in later years.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :D


End file.
